


in this world, to survive

by ahven



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: (kinda), Injury, M/M, Sexuality Crisis, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29291187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahven/pseuds/ahven
Summary: What happens in France, stays in France.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Matthew Crawley
Kudos: 29





	in this world, to survive

**Author's Note:**

> content warning: matthew's death, war & war injuries. nothing graphic

Who survives war, heals miraculously from a serious spinal injury, and then dies in a fucking car crash? It isn’t fair. It isn’t bloody fair.

“Poor Lady Mary…” Jimmy says.

Of course Thomas can’t imagine what the family is going through right now. But he still knew Mr Crawley, maybe not as well as them, but there’s something about friendships made during a time of war…

Like Lady Sybil.

After her death Thomas’ shock was understood, and he had Anna. Now they don’t even know he knew Mr Crawley, and if he starts crying here Jimmy will think he’s gone mad, or worse – gone soft.

He flinches when Jimmy speaks again.

“You knew him well?”

It’s odd Jimmy is talking to him, let alone talking without being malicious.

“No, not really.” Now he looks like an idiot, holding back tears for a man he didn’t know. “Or, yes, actually. Not _well,_ but… we knew each other during the war.”

“Like Lady Sybil?”

Salt to the wounds, Jimmy. 

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know Mr Crawley well, but I can say he was a good man,” Jimmy says.

Thomas knows Mr Crawley was a good man. Better than most of his kind.

“We met in the trenches once,” he says. Jimmy didn’t ask, but he doesn’t interrupt either. “I offered him tea and we talked about Downton.” He chuckles and looks down at his hands. “Feels so far away, that.”

Jimmy nods. “They’re all so miserable downstairs. Daisy’s crying. Anna is mostly worried over Lady Mary. Molesley’s got no job now, on top of everything.”

To be honest Thomas doesn’t give a fuck about Molesley’s feelings right now. Not that he usually does. 

“How are you feeling?”

Jimmy means after getting beaten, not after hearing about his employer’s death. 

“I’ll get by.”

“Well then. I must go. Carson probably has some job or other for me.”

“Yeah. Thanks for… telling me.”

Jimmy leaves. Thomas knows crying would hurt because of his broken ribs, so he tries not to. It’s a fool’s errand.

**Somme, France**

“Never suspected you,” Thomas says, as they lay next to each other in Matthew’s narrow bed. It’s oddly silent. Maybe the Germans need a break too.

“No?”

Matthew never suspected himself either. Except for that one boy from a particularly boring law class, but it was _Oxford._ And they did nothing else but kiss after sharing a bottle of wine.

“Not the way you look at Lady Mary.”

He must admit he can’t go a day without thinking of Mary. It’s pathetic, especially when he’s in bed with her former footman right now. 

“God has blessed”– or cursed, more like –“some of us to admire both sexes…”

He sees himself as a man who likes women, but in situations like this...

“Must be handy,” Thomas says, softly. Matthew has never heard him talk like that. Not that he has heard Thomas talk much outside the dining room. 

“Quite.”

“So it isn’t just an army thing?” Thomas asks.

“Hm?”

“I mean, many married men, men who actually love their wives can still –” Thomas gestures at them, struggling to find the right word, “– _do this._ ” 

Matthew chuckles. Is Corporal Barrow shy? Who’d have thought.

“Here, you know,” Thomas continues. More vague gesturing in the air.

“University thing, more like,” Matthew says. _He_ didn’t, exactly, but he _knew_ what was happening.

“Just got a motivation for studying.”

“Yeah, well, most of my schoolmates are married by now.”

Even those who read Oscar Wilde.

“So you’re going to marry some lucky girl and forget all of your adventures of wild youth, then?”

Either Thomas is bitter, or that is just his normal tone of voice. Matthew wouldn’t know.

“If we ever get out of here,” he says.

He shouldn’t have brought the subject of war up, because Thomas loses his smile immediately. Thinking about the old, better days is the reason they started talking in the first place.

“I’ll get out of here. Somehow,” Thomas says. He isn’t looking at Matthew anymore.

“To work at the hospital?”

Thomas stares at the ceiling. If you can call it a ceiling.

“Yeah.”

“You need to get sent home first, as I said,” Matthew reminds. He doesn’t want to get Thomas’ hopes up. Who wouldn’t want to get out?

“I know.” He sounds like a mocked child. “But I just can’t be here any longer. Just bloody can’t.”

They lay in silence.

Davis could be back any moment, but Matthew wants to focus on Thomas’ breathing, feeling someone close. Davis could think is completely innocent anyways – or so Matthew tells himself, if his batman would turn up. Thomas definitely needs comfort.

“I should go,” Thomas says. He sits up, but doesn’t move from there. Matthew sits up too.

“Are you alright?”

Thomas’ gaze is fixed on his fidgeting hands. He sighs.

“My stretcher partner got shot in the head today.”

“I’m sorry,” Matthew says.

“People die every day, it shouldn’t shock me anymore.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. No one should ever be used to constant death, but that’s reality to them, isn’t it?

“I should go,” Thomas says again. This time he stands up and walks to the door. Matthew follows him.

“Will you survive?” he asks.

Thomas smiles unhappily. “I always do.”

×

One moment they had been in bed together and next Matthew didn’t see Thomas for days. Could be nothing but a coincidence, everything and everyone is covered by dirt. 

He asks a few men if they know anything about Corporal Barrow. Most haven’t ever heard the name, and soon Matthew starts to worry the worst. Thomas can’t just vanish into thin air. 

“Have you lost your own soldiers, Crawley?”

It can’t be too damn hard to find _one_ medic.

After two weeks someone finally tells him that _Barrow got injured and is probably on his way back to England, lucky chap._

Matthew doesn’t know how badly Thomas is injured, but no one would probably call a man ‘lucky chap’ if he had lost half of his limbs.

Letter from Downton reveals that Thomas is indeed working in the hospital, with a glove on his hand. So he did it. Got out.

**Downton Abbey**

“You’re back.” A pause. “Sir.”

Matthew has seen him before, but just here and there, passing, busy with work.

“You’re too.”

Thomas looks different – uniform clean, expression neutral, even confident. More like his old self.

“My congratulations for your promotion, Sergeant Barrow,” Matthew says, politely. Thomas didn’t like to be called Thomas the last time they met, and Matthew doubts it has changed ever since.

“Thank you, sir.”

Matthew pays Thomas another look. He definitely liked being called with the right title.

Matthew inhales. “I really meant to talk to you about what happened in the trenches,” he says, lowering his voice. 

He didn’t mean to, but, well, he’s talking now.

Thomas waits for an officer to walk past them and then says, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“We’re all professional, then?”

A small smile grows on Thomas’ face.

“What happens in France, stays in France.”

×

The room is quieter than usual. Reminds Matthew of the quiet night at the Western Front.

“Is it bad?” Thomas asks. His voice is quiet too.

“I’ll never walk again. Or have children.”

Matthew hears Thomas shifting in his chair.

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir.”

Thomas doesn’t ask anything further. It would be improper if he asked, anyways. They are at Downton now, and there are certain rules and such, even during wartime.

“I should get back to work,” Thomas mutters, probably more to himself than Matthew, who must look like he’s asleep again.

“Sergeant, wait.”

Matthew tilts his head to see Thomas properly.

“Yes, sir?”

Lavinia and Mary are of course lovely company, but they don’t understand him, not like a man who has been in the war.

“Sorry for… being like this,” he says.

Thomas shakes his head distantly, focused on the other side of the room. Lieutenant Chambers is vomiting again. Thomas is about to stand up, but a nurse is already hurrying towards the poor officer.

Thomas turns to Matthew and smiles a little.

“You don’t know how many injured men I deal with daily.”

That makes Matthew chuckle. “A handful, it looks like.”

Thomas leand back in his chair and rubs his gloved hand. _Left hand_ , Matthew points out to himself.

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

It’s a bullet wound, of course it hurts.

“Nothing compared to yours, I think.”

“No,” Matthew agrees. He looks at his legs – his legs that he needs to look at, that he knows they are still there, and then back to Thomas.

He has stopped the rubbing. The hand is hidden behind his leg.

Matthew is not judging about decisions made in such a hellhole they were in, but what does _Thomas_ think...

“If you think you’re a coward, don’t,” Matthew says, matter-of-factly. The hell with the rules and what’s proper, the line was crossed long ago.

Thomas stares at him, eyes wide.

“Thank you, sir,” he says, voice trembling slightly.

Matthew tries to smile despite the cuts on his face. Thomas doesn’t.

Footsteps approach them. It’s Mary, carrying a pile of towels.

Thomas stands up and says “milady” and walks off. Mary watches him go before turning to Matthew.

“He was odd,” she says. “What were you talking about?”

“War,” he replies.

×

The door opens, and Mrs Hughes steps in with a tray. Thomas sets his newspaper down, what he has been only staring at instead of reading.

“I thought you’d like to eat.”

He doesn’t, really.

“Thank you, Mrs Hughes.” 

She sits down, and her expression changes from a smile to a frown. “I gather James told you about Mr Crawley.” 

Like he has thought about anything else. 

“It’s horrible.”

Mrs Hughes nods.

“You’re on friendly terms?” she asks.

Thomas thinks she’s talking about Mr Crawley, and it takes him a second to realise what she means.

“Yes, Jimmy and I made peace.”

“That’s a relief.”

If Mrs Hughes makes a connection between him getting beaten and Jimmy suddenly not hating him anymore, she doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll leave you to rest.”

After the door closes behind her Thomas sighs and closes his eyes. Matthew Crawley was one of the few friends made during the war that are still alive. The last one actually. Maybe calling him a friend isn’t proper or right, they weren’t best mates to any extent, but no strangers either.

He finds himself rubbing his hands together. Usually seeing his scar doesn’t make him smile, but now, thinking about a time where the future Earl of Grantham told him what he did wasn’t cowardly, it does.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic on ao3 and english isnt my first language so im nervous!! but i hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading!!
> 
> im on tumblr as [kommunismi](https://kommunismi.tumblr.com)


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